Dear housemate who never does her dishes. I get that you really love eating pork topped with bacon (ew) nightly, but seriously do your fucking dishes. All I want to do is cook a fucking veggie burger and not have to clean up bacon grease every time I go to do so. Also, stop smelling up the house with your shit food. Oh, and that mixing bowl that you left dirtied for 3 weeks until one of us cleaned it, I remember that shit. So, if you somehow read this and get the slightest inclination that this might be you. I beg of you, just do your fucking dishes so I don't have to, for the love of Christ. —Everyone Else in Your House

So I call a phone line after regular business hours to get some advice because something very weird is happening and they suggest I go to a hospital to get checked because I might be having an emergency. I comply and am examined and told that it might not be an emergency but I should check with a specialist in that particular field as soon as possible just to be sure. So the next day I phone the specialist's office, the one where they told me to "call right away" if I'm having certain symptoms and they tell me that despite my symptoms I can't be seen without a referral. So, I phone my family physician's office and the earliest they can see me is in six days. The only other option is to go to a walk-in clinic, and the last time I tried that they told me, at mid-day, that they were full-up till the next day. It's now past mid-day on the second day of the weirdness and I'm having trouble seeing. So, I decided what the hell? Who needs two retinas anyway? One eye is as good as two, isn't it? —Fucked Every Which Way

Appeal court is even fixed in this city run by the same little circle of delaying liars. No wonder people are so frustrated with the system here in Hellifax little port town on the end of Canada because it is so fixed. You will not go against someone in your social circle of social  volunteering climbers here and there trying to buy cooperation. btw your white fabric pants gaged me and my mother. You tacky girl have no merit. Buy some new pants, yellow is your colour. I can't wait to add this final chapter to my report of system failure here in Hellifax. —Good Thing There Is Karma

Please stop texting me the question, "How are you feeling?" I'm four months into chemo, how the fuck do you think I'm feeling? Surely, you can at least begin to imagine that I'm not feeling well—that every day is a physical and existential struggle. Bless your little oblivious heart. What you could possibly be looking to achieve with this caliber of selfish, meat-headed question? Perhaps, making yourself feel you've done your daily good deed  when you read my canned, fabricated-to-help-you-manage-your-emotions response OR that you want me to spend what little time and energy I have pecking out the details of just how shitty I'm feeling. Again, and again. Neither one of these shows investment in my wellbeing. I'm glad you haven't had cancer. I hope you never do. Here's the thing though: People that truly want to provide support don't fire off a daily, earmarking, obligation-to-respond-inducing text, they actually show up IRL and are willing to go to places that are uncomfortable. Now you know how I'm feeling. —Sicko

So they won to have it removed because it was offensive due to Cornwallis infamous proclamation, never mind nobody mentioned the Mi’kmaq took scalps first. But that's ancient history. Now will the city council have the guts to remove all statues and references on Remembrance Day to the RCAF who bombed millions of innocent women and children in German cities during the war? Or was that acceptable because the Luftwaffe did it first?  What makes one less palatable than the other? —History Is Brutal

PSA TO HALIFAX DRIVERS (more specifically to Halifax drivers who regularly turn right from Chebucto onto Mumford): That little human-like-figure you see blinking at you–the one that is down and to the right of the stop lights you can’t seem to look past – means THAT PEDESTRIANS HAVE THE RIGHT OF WAY. Which–and this is may by shocking to some–means STOP DRIVING! STOP TURNING! STOP SLOWLY INCHING FORWARD TO PASSIVE AGGRESSIVELY TELL ME TO WALK FASTER! It is not a game of how-many-cars-can-sneak-by-before-the-person-walking-is-halfway-through-the-intersection. So, the next time you are at that exchange, please, for the love of God, public safety, and my sanity—stop. Fucking. Driving. —Wrong On Red

Family day is coming...but I don't get paid for it. It is a provincial holiday and even though I've lived in this province all my life, and my employer was founded in this province, they don't have to pay me. And therefore they won't pay me

Why? It is some lame-ass excuse that they are federally regulated. And a lame ass excuse that will always be. I'm not some trades worker that flies around the country grabbing up every provincial holiday that is available.

I'm just an office worker. I work the same place every day of the year —Just Call Me Nova Scotia But Don’t Pay Me Nova Scotia

That’s was the sign says, and that is what I do when it is just you and me. But when I'm doing 30km/h more than the right hand lane and the right hand lane is busy as hell? Nope, sorry, no offence but you can go fuck yourself. —One Thirty Guy

I'd like to send a shout out to all the lousy, self-centred drivers out there. You see them daily. Texting while driving and taking up both lanes. Those doing 70 on the 103 in the fast lane. The ones who change lanes five times and cut everyone else off so they can get to Timmy's five minutes faster. Today it was the idiot driving the VW  in bumper to bumper traffic who decided to take a lane and almost ripped off my front end. Why not just get in that lane in the first place? This place has the highest accident rate in the country due to the morons on the road. No wonder no one wants to live here. —Fucking Pissed